


Coping Mechanism

by Gumnut



Series: Gumnut’s Thunderbirds Episode Tags [6]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Angst, Brothers, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 00:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19161679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gumnut/pseuds/Gumnut
Summary: “I get you guys are busy and I’m spoilt that you all visit when you can, but honestly, this isn’t about me. This is out of character for Virg.” A pause. “And I miss him, okay?”SPOILERS FOR 3.13





	Coping Mechanism

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Coping Mechanism  
> Author: Gumnut  
> 9 – 10 Jun 2019  
> Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS  
> Rating: Teen  
> Summary: “I get you guys are busy and I’m spoilt that you all visit when you can, but honestly, this isn’t about me. This is out of character for Virg.” A pause. “And I miss him, okay?”  
> Word count: 7342  
> Spoilers & warnings: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 3 EPISODE 13  
> Timeline: Episode Tag  
> Author’s note: Thank you to @scribbles97 for all her support. While the natural topic to episode tag this major ep is in the Pen & Ink department or even the Gordon!whump department, I actually write Virgil, so this happened. It has its moments and it just kept going. Again, its about brothers and coping with the situation the ep left us with. I hope you enjoy it anyway.  
> Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

Virgil Tracy is not a fish.

That’s not to say he has no love of the sea. Nor does it say he can’t swim. It’s just his preferred medium is air and rocket engines. Besides, he has a little brother who would rather swim than fly any day, so there was no need for Virgil to get his feet wet.

But he had never wanted his ‘bird to swim more than he had in the last couple of days.

Thunderbird Two had been in the water...once. Gordon had taken great joy at poking fun at his older brother as TB4 ran circles around the swamped Two as they all worked to get her space-rigged shell out of the Pacific. It had taken four souped-up pods to lift her module-less carcass off the surface of the ocean. The rest of her had been nabbed by One and Shadow, a fractured convoy of Thunderbird eventually coming to rest on her runway several hundred kilometres to the west. It had taken him a week to get her back up to par, combing through her systems, draining her vents, reassuring himself that his girl was safe to fly. Scott had dragged him off her several times. The one conclusion from that whole fiasco was that he was never doing that again. No matter how exciting he had thought it might be.

Despite it all, he would love to be able to dive beneath the waves now. Yesterday. The day before. Especially the day before.

He was used to being the backup, the hovering older brother, monitoring, keeping watch, but always that niggle in the back of his mind of what could he do if something went seriously wrong? Gordon was the aquanaut and he always worked alone.

It broke the most basic rules of diving. Never dive alone. Gordon did it all the time, his confidence was so strong, and Virgil reconciled it with the fact that he always had a brother hovering over him.

He always had Virgil hovering over him.

Or at the very least, John.

Gordon was watched with loving eyes.

Hadn’t counted when it was most needed though.

Virgil bit his lip and glared at the display tracking his eldest and youngest brothers. Scott and Alan were on retrieval duty, pulling Thunderbird Four...no, her remains from the bottom of the ocean.

Again.

The pods were efficient, but they were no TB4. His eyes followed the dots over the holographic landscape as they moved the rocks that had crushed his brother’s ‘bird.

John was with his brother in the hospital. Eos was monitoring the retrieval, her quiet and unusually respectful tones relaying important data.

Virgil sat hovering above the ocean with only his thoughts for company.

Lots of whatifs and should haves, none of which gave him a satisfactory answer as to what he could have done better.

Chatter over the comms - Scott had freed the remains of her cockpit, Alan part of her cargo bay and they were returning to the surface.

Virgil sat.

He watched as the buckled remains of the compartment that had saved his little brother’s life slowly emerged from the thankfully calm surface of the ocean. The buckled shape, the busted marine acrylic, the...augh, Gordon had been in that? Something inside Virgil curled up, twisted and cried. His ears listened as his two brothers coordinated themselves and loaded the wreck into the module before once again leaving Virgil alone, above the ocean, waiting.

“Virgil?”

“Yes, John?” Blink. “Aren’t you at the hospital?”

“Yes. Eos asked me to check on you.”

Huh? “Okay, why?”

“She said you needed a little company.”

“I’m fine, John.”

“That I highly doubt as none of us are fine.”

He did have a point.

Alan’s pod bounced to the surface sporting another chunk of broken yellow submarine.

And there started the earworm his little brother so often enjoyed planting in his brain. ‘We all live in a yellow submarine’ was the bane of the Tracy existence.

Scott followed. His piece was torn in half, the paint scorched. There was heat down there.

So damn close.

“Virgil?” John again.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe you should take a break?”

“A break from what? I’m not doing anything. Alan and Scott have it all under control.” Another shredded yellow piece of metal emerged. Change of subject. “How is Gordon?”

“Complaining. They ran another series of blood tests and he’s claiming the hospital is run by vampires.”

“More tests? Why?”

A pause. “Nothing to be concerned about.” Another pause, this one longer. “Scott wants to speak with you.” John cut himself off.

“Virgil, you okay?” Big brother was definitely on the line.

“I’m fine.” A frown. “How are you?”

“Getting there. Almost got all of it. Some of it is scattered so we’re double checking.” Another pause. “Hey, could you drop down to the module and make room for the pods. We’ve kinda made a bit of a mess.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Well, at least it gave him something to do. “Eos, can you secure Thunderbird Two?”

“Certainly, Virgil. Are you feeling better?”

“What?”

“Did John help?”

“Help with what?” He was paused half out of his pilot’s chair, frowning.

“Oh! Oh, never mind.”

Virgil stared at the speaker. He was missing something.

“Virg, you coming down?”

“Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on.”

-o-o-o-

The mess he found in his module was as heart-breaking as he had expected. Scott and Alan dragged up the last few bits and pieces of his brother’s trashed ‘bird. Virgil secured it all for transport, his exo-suit shifting chunks of yellow thunderbird to one side to allow the pods to dock with the module.

At some point his heart stopped hurting and just fell numb. Scott caught him staring at the scarred and buckled four on her yellow dorsal fin. It was stashed on top of one of the piles like a tombstone. An arm snaked across his shoulders and squeezed.

“She’ll fly again.”

Virgil swallowed, the lump in his throat, hard. “Yes, she will.”

And she would. The moment Thunderbird Two came to a stop in her hanger, Virgil was out of his seat and down in the module.

It wasn’t her module. She wasn’t in four, she was in two, and that was wrong.

Shouldering on his exo-suit once again, Virgil began moving her parts to her home.

Eventually she was laid out like a broken lego kit on the floor of her module. Virgil took a deep breath and shed his suit before exiting to his workshop.

“Virg, you coming up for lunch?” Alan’s expression was as far from his usual upbeat self as it could be.

“Be up later.” He waved his little brother off.

Alan shrugged and left.

Virgil pulled up Four’s schematics and began planning.

-o-o-o-

Scott spent a great deal of time in transit over the next week. Caught amongst the hospital, the GDF and International Rescue, not to mention Tracy Industries and the media, he barely had time to eat much less sleep. By the end of the week, John was calling him on it and bundled him off to bed despite his protests.

The moment the media discovered one of the Tracy boys was in the hospital, the networks exploded with stories. Apparently, Gordon had sixteen love children by twelve different women, the Hood was actually an alien, all the Thunderbirds had exploded and the vent field was heralding the end of all life on Earth.

Gordon found all of the above totally hilarious and had to be banned from the internet after launching three new rumours of his own. Scott was most unimpressed with the idea that Gordon was the next six-billion-dollar man and could shoot lasers from his eyeballs.

Grandma had to break that one up.

So, Scott was tired. Ever so tired.

Perhaps that is why he didn’t notice that he hadn’t seen Virgil for all of that week.

There had been a rescue in the middle of that and Virgil had been on comms, but Scott hadn’t actually seen him, as he had answered with TB1 from London. If his brother had sounded a little tired, it wasn’t surprising. Scott felt like he’d parked his ‘bird on his own head.

Alan was almost as scarce. He wasn’t handling Gordon’s absence very well at all. Also not surprising. Scott eventually threw him onto One and parked him at the hotel with Grandma and ordered him to stay there unless he was needed for a mission.

Grandma needed the support and Alan needed to see Gordon.

John was up and down to TB5 several times that week and it was showing. Scott actually heard Eos yelling at his brother at one point.

In short, the whole Tracy family was a mess, and understandably.

Then there was the question of their father.

Scott found himself both desperate for further information and shying away from the whole idea.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t excited by the possibility that his father might still be alive. God, please let him be.

Please.

It was the hope that hurt. He had been burnt so many times by the chance, by the mere glimmer of finding his father that he wasn’t sure he would be strong enough to face disappointment again.

Or watch his brothers face the same.

Brains knew it. Brains had been through it with them that same number of times. The engineer disappeared into his work, determined to find the answers as fast as possible. To follow through on that glimmer that had so much potential for destruction.

So, no, Scott didn’t notice his next younger brother’s absence and it shamed him when he did.

It was Gordon who pulled the blinkers off his eyes.

“Scott?” The sound of his injured brother’s voice shook him out of the mental doze he had fallen into. A glance at the clock told him how much time he didn’t have left to sleep tonight and why his brain had half shut down. The lights were on in the comms room, but the darkness outside through the wide-open windows sucked the illumination into a black hole of sea breeze and distant waves.

“Gordon? Do you have any idea what time it is?” His brother was several hours behind Tracy Island and likely bored again.

“You’re awake, aren’t you?”

“I am now.”

“Good. Have you seen Virg?”

“Huh? It’s 2.30am.”

“Yeah, so? Virg is a night owl, not an early bird like you. This is barely knock off time.”

“What did you want him for?”

“He was going to give me an update on Four after dinner and I haven’t heard from him.”

“An update on Four? Gordon, we haven’t even started on Four. Brains has been working on Calypso and Brayman.”

“No, Virgil asked me yesterday what my preferred calibrations were for her rear thrusters. He said he was ready to tune.”

“Ready to tune? Gordon, the last I saw of your ‘bird, she was broken worse than you.”

“Thank you for that image, great big brother.” A pause. “When was the last time you slept? You look awful.”

Scott sighed. “Yesterday? The GDF are dancing, the media are annoying and Tracy Industries is complaining about a six point drop on the share price.” He nodded in Gordon’s direction. “You should be proud. Six points is decent. Our shareholders obviously love you.”

But Gordon didn’t pick up the joke. In fact, he was frowning. “You need sleep, Scott.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. John has been nagging me constantly.”

“You let Virgil see you like that, he’ll hogtie you to your bed.” The frown deepened. “Why hasn’t he tied you up already?”

And that was the clincher. It forced Scott to think back to when he had last seen Virgil...and came up blank. “I haven’t seen him.”

“What do you mean you haven’t seen him? I told you, he’s working on my ‘bird.”

“And I told you we haven’t started yet. Brains has been too busy.”

“Yet you haven’t seen Virgil today. When did you last see him?”

Scott found his throat dry. So damned tired. “Can’t remember.”

His little brother’s bandaged head glared at him through the hologram. “You are going to do two things right now. First you are going to find Virgil for me. Then you are going to bed. Obviously, Virgil is shirking his ‘kick your ass’ duty. Can’t believe it, I break a couple of bones and you all fall apart.”

“Watch it, Gordon. Not a joking matter.”

“Neither is the fact that my second eldest brother is MIA. Go and find him, or you’ll have to put up with my nagging voice instead of his much more pleasant baritone telling you to damn well go to bed.”

Scott was of the distinct impression that if he did find Virgil, the nagging wouldn’t change tone, it would simply duplicate. Since his brown eyed brothers’ voices could often be mistaken for each other it would just be a louder rumble.

But Gordon was right. Now he realised Virgil was missing, he had to find him.

Shunting the work aside on the desk, Scott pulled up a map of the island and keyed in Virgil’s tracker code.

Module Four.

At 2.35am.

Well, he would go down there, drag his brother back to bed and then find his own. GDF reports be damned.

A sigh and he struggled to his feet. Not enough exercise this week of the fitness kind. Time was non-existent.

Virgil would kill him.

Why hadn’t he?

He hit the elevator and used the few moments it took to descend to the hangers to just lean on the wall and close his eyes. Gordon was going to get better. It would take some time, but he would be hale and healthy eventually. The chaos of the last week would be in the past and slowly everything would return to normal. As normal as it got on this Island in any case.

The elevator hit the bottom of the shaft and the doors slid quietly open. Pushing off from the wall, Scott straightened himself and started the trek across Thunderbird Two’s hangar.

The massive ‘bird sat quietly in her ready to launch position, ever hulking over everything around her. Scott’s footsteps echoed across the empty cavern.

As he neared the module bay, soft piano music wafted over the cool air. Light shone from the open hatch of Module Four. There was no doubt where Virgil was.

Stepping into the shaft of light, Scott’s eyes landed on Thunderbird Four, snug in her module.

And in one piece.

He blinked and took another step forward. Gone was the pile of scorched scrap that once was a beloved Thunderbird. In its place sat a grey ghost of a machine, her shape matched perfectly to the TB4 he knew. Bare metal, undercoated in places, yellow in others, the raw cahelium alloy shining dully in the artificial light

How the hell? “Virgil?” It came out as a croak.

Only the music, apparently on loop, answered.

As he approached closer, Scott resisted the urge to reach out and touch that gleaming metal. Walking around her, he found one of her thruster casings had been removed and left on the floor. A panel gaped open showing her inner workings like an abandoned medical procedure.

“Virgil?”

He completed his circle of the submarine and still no sign of his brother. “Virgil?”

He peered through the pane-less windows. Empty.

“Virgil!”

It wasn’t until his third circle of the craft that he noticed the boot sticking out under one of the rear thrusters.

“Virg?”

Down on his knees and he realised the ‘bird was up on jacks.

And his brother was asleep under her.

Shit.

Virgil was curled up, spanner still in hand, a panel hanging open above him.

Scott resisted the urge to simply pull him out by the feet. The danger...their jacks were amongst the most secure in the business, but still...not safe.

He reached under the submarine and shook the sleeping mechanic. “Virgil, wake up.” No response. A solid shove. “Virgil!”

For a split second, a ‘what if he is not simply sleeping’ scenario danced across Scott’s mind and froze his blood. A disgruntled groan from his prone brother, sprouted so much relief he almost forgot to be angry.

Almost.

“Virgil, what the hell are you doing? Get out from under there.”

“Wha-?”

Newly awoken Virgil equals dopey Virgil.

This time Scott did simply reach in and pull his brother out from under the submarine. Virgil flailed but was too asleep to squawk.

“Are you okay?”

Brown eyes blinked up at him, frowned, and Scott was shocked to see the dark patches under them. His brother looked gaunt and drained.

It took a moment or two, but Virgil’s brain slowly came online. He rolled over and, wavering, pushed himself to his feet. “M’okay.”

“You don’t look it.”

“Just a little tired.”

“A little. What have you been doing down here?”

Brown eyes turned on him with a half-awake glare. “What does it look like?”

“It looks great, Virgil, but you look like shit.”

His brother blatantly stared him up and down. “You’re no ray of sunshine either.” A concerned frown. “When was the last time you slept?”

“Me? What about you?”

“About a minute ago. Sleeping nicely, thank you.”

“Under a jacked-up submarine with a spanner for a bed partner.”

The spanner in Virgil’s hand was suddenly shoved into his tool chest. “Guess I got tired. Haven’t been sleeping well.”

Scott just glared. “Go to bed.”

“You first.”

“Oh, for the love of...I don’t have time for this. Just move, Virgil. Up to your room. A good twelve hours at least or I’m siccing Grandma on you.”

Virgil glared at him for a whole second before turning abruptly and shoving the open thruster panel closed. He grabbed a rag that looked dirtier than his hands and wiped them thoroughly before making a beeline towards the elevator on the far side of the hangar.

Scott’s lips thinned a moment before he hit the light switch and followed.

-o-o-o-

Scott considered the matter solved and after a decent night’s sleep of his own, he returned to wrestling the GDF and Tracy Industries.

Three days later, this time ten in the morning, Gordon commed him, again asking for Virgil. It was at this point that Gordon revealed that he hadn’t actually seen the engineer since that first visit at the hospital. He had only spoken to him over comms about Thunderbird Four.

“He hasn’t visited you at all?”

“You getting hard of hearing, old man?”

“This is Virgil we are talking about?”

“Senile apparently, too. I get you guys are busy and I’m spoilt that you all visit when you can, but honestly, this isn’t about me. This is out of character for Virg.” A pause, russet brown eyes refusing to meet his blue. “And I miss him, okay?”

The admission to vulnerability landed somewhere in Scott’s left ventricle and caused a stutter.

“I’ll find him. You rest.”

“I am resting. All I do is rest. It is so boring.”

“Anything we can do?”

“Find Virgil!”

“Okay, okay.” A mock salute. “Calm down. I’ll find him.”

“How you flippin’ lose him, I have no idea. Don’t you notice when he goes missing?”

That chopped off a chunk of his heart. “I’ll do my best.” He killed the connection and kicked the desk he was apparently chained to.

He grit his teeth, cursing the Hood to the cellular level.

Another flick of a finger and he pulled up Virgil’ tracker again.

Module Four.

Scott sighed and headed down to the hangers.

His brother was awake this time, fortunately since he was on top of the submarine working on who knew what. A welding mask was flipped up, caught in his hair, and he had earphones in his ears.

“Virgil!”

The engineer had his back to him and didn’t answer.

“Virgil!”

Still nothing.

Scott strode around the vehicle attempting to get into his brother’s line of sight. The man’s red flannel shirt fluttered about him, open at the front and Scott realised the material was torn on one side. “Virgil!”

His brother kept working, eyes trained on whatever he was doing. A hand reached up and flipped his visor down. Violet sparks flew as he activated a welding torch and Scott was forced to throw up a hand and look away. “Goddamnit, Virgil!”

The light flickered against the walls of the module, Scott, forced to stare at his own shadow, waiting for his brother to finish doing what he was doing.

“Ah, shit!”

The welding light shut off to be replaced by an amber glow. Scott dared to look up at his brother only to widen his eyes in shock when he found the man on fire.

Virgil stood on top of TB4, mask up, swearing and beating at his flannel shirt, the material happily burning a black streak up his side.

Scott didn’t think, just hurried over to the nearest suitable fire extinguisher, grabbed it, and, clambering up the ladder, shot his brother with it.

It would have been funny if it was.

It wasn’t.

His brother gasped, flailing in the stream of harmless, but undoubtedly cold, chemicals. A white haze coated Virgil by the time Scott was satisfied the flames were out. The man stood staring at him a mixture of shock and anger on his face.

Well, at least he finally had Virgil’s attention.

The engineer ripped out his headphones. “What did you do that for?”

“You were on fire, Virgil.”

“It was under control.”

“Could have fooled me.” A sigh and Scott put the extinguisher down. A step and he was beside his brother gently pulling off the soaked and damaged shirt and examining him for burns.

“I can undress myself, you know.” It was said quietly and without anger.

Scott balled up the shirt and chucked it over the edge. It hit the module floor with a splat. Reaching up, he slid the welding mask out of Virgil’s hair and placed it beside the discarded welding torch.

“What are you doing?”

“Something I should have done three days ago.” He gestured towards the ladder. “After you.”

Virgil shook his head. “I have to finish this connector.”

Scott grabbed his arm, a touch alarmed at the focus in his brother’s eyes. “No, you’re coming with me.”

“Scott-“

“Now.”

His brother’s shoulders tensed a moment and Scott thought he was going to have to push harder, but a sudden wilt and Virgil let out a disconsolate groan. He shed his gloves, the fireproof pair landing beside the discarded helmet. Without a further word, the engineer turned and climbed down the ladder.

Lips thin, Scott followed.

He followed, then directed his brother’s grey shirted shoulders out of the hanger and up to the kitchen where he sat the man down and made him a hot chocolate.

Not a single word was said.

Turning back from the fridge, Scott found Virgil staring into nothing, five fingers tapping on the table. In the bright light of the morning sun, he finally got a good look at him.

The shadows under his brother’s eyes were almost caverns. He was pale, even gaunt. His hair uncharacteristically stuck up in all directions, most likely stiff from grease more than hair product. Virgil had a habit of running his fingers through his hair when thinking, no matter what was on those fingers at the time.

The lack of red flannel bleached the man out, his dark hair a smudge against the grey.

He placed the hot chocolate in front of Virgil, but to Scott’s surprise, it was ignored.

Those fingers continued to tap.

“Gordon is looking for you.” It took a moment, but those brown eyes turned to him. Scott sat down across from his brother and nursed his own warm cup. “He wants to see you.”

A slow blink, and the fingers stopped tapping and were dragged through hair. “Yeah, I need to give him an update.”

“Update?”

“On Thunderbird Four.”

Scott frowned. “Why?”

“So he knows how she’s doing.”

“What about how you’re doing?”

“What about it? I’m fine. She’s coming together good. Shouldn’t be long before we can finish her shell and get that yellow happening.”

Scott stared at his brother.

“When did you last sleep, Virgil?”

A shrug, but no answer and a complete lack of eye contact.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what? Brains is busy and Gordon needs his girl. Not a hard equation, Scott.”

“Gordon needs you.”

That did it. Brown eyes snapped to his. “What?”

“You haven’t been to see him.”

“I’ve spoken with him.”

“About TB4.”

“Yeah.”

A sigh. “He misses you, Virg. Why don’t you hitch a ride with me this afternoon and we can go visit him together?”

His brother held his stare. “I’m quite capable of flying myself out.”

An arched eyebrow. “I could easily take that as you not wanting my company, but I’m not buying it and there is no way you are flying anywhere. Hell, at this point I wouldn’t give you a license to walk, much less fly.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, downed the previously ignored hot chocolate in one gulp, and stood up. “I’m fine. I need to get back to work.”

“No.” Scott put down his own mug and stood up to face his brother. “You are going to have a nap and then we are flying out to the hospital so you can see Gordon.”

Those brown eyes flared, but Scott shifted his stance, his intentions clear.

Again, his brother’s shoulders wilted, his gaze dropping. “Fine.”

Scott stepped back from the table and walked around until he was standing beside Virgil. The man’s hands were clenched and white knuckled. Scott wrapped an arm around his little brother’s considerable shoulders. “C’mon, Virg, give yourself a break. Gordon misses you.”

The fists unclenched, muscles going limp.

“Go up to your room, have a nap. I’ll call you when I’m ready to go.”

A flicker of brown shot at him, but his brother turned away and headed up the stairs, leaving Scott alone in the kitchen.

A tap at the holographic interface and the eldest brother was able to watch that tracker enter the elevator, climb up to the residential section and plant itself in Virgil’s room.

The house suddenly felt empty. Because it pretty much was.

Another tap, this time at his comms. “Johnny, you got a minute?”

-o-o-o-

Gordon had never been so bored in his life. Four walls, a window, a holoprojector with access to the entire world, his brothers at his fingertips, he had every comfort he could have in his situation.

But he was bored.

It had partly to do with the drugs in his system. Sure, there were less than there were before, but he had put his body through the wringer and it didn’t fail to remind him of it as often as possible.

He could hardly move, the bed beneath him shifting pressure points like some creepy jello monster. He had one arm to play with. Well, hell, it could be worse. There was always worse. But yeah, bored.

Penelope was a blessed ray of sunshine. Her smile lit up the room every time she entered it. He clung to her visits, though shy in expressing his appreciation. Grandma was a continual reassurance, her soft touch always welcome. None of her cooking had appeared as yet, thankfully, but her words, her touch, her Grandma-ness meant all it possibly could and he cherished it.

Alan was a firecracker set off in the room. Or at least he attempted to be. Even Gordon could see his little brother wasn’t handling this very well. He couldn’t blame him. If their positions had been reversed, Gordon had no idea how he could stand to see Alan lying in this bed like a broken doll. So yeah, it sucked big time.

Scott, of course, was the stoic, reassuring, worried-as-shit big brother. The man was burning candles at both ends. Gordon had yelled at him on his last visit. Hell, a brother wasn’t supposed to worry the invalid. The invalid had more ways than one of kicking said brother’s ass if he didn’t stop wearing himself thin.

John, looking almost as tired, had backed him up.

Gordon had then proceeded to chew out John, telling him to get his ass either to Tracy Island or TB5 and stop hopping between the two. Gravity sickness wasn’t to be trifled with. Even Gordon knew that.

So yeah, big brother bawl out session. Actually, felt good to let a little of that steam out in a worthwhile cause. A call to Eos, who to his surprise actually answered and was willing to conspire with him, and he was able to track both brothers.

Even more surprise when they actually did what he asked, both of them holing up on Tracy Island for the night.

That left Virgil.

Gordon was worried and just a touch hurt that his big brother hadn’t come to visit. Sure, he was little more than a comline away and answered almost every time Gordon hailed him, but he hadn’t visited.

And all he spoke about was Thunderbird Four.

Detailed summaries of progress, reassurance that his ‘bird would be ready when he got home, holographic images of the work that had been done.

Gordon appreciated it. God, he did. But as time wore on, his brother’s absence began to gnaw at him and appreciation turned to worry. What was going on? He had expected his usually sensitive brother to be the one marshalling the other three. Virgil was the one who sent Scott to bed when he over did it. Virgil was the one who cornered John over comlines and interrogated him on his sleep pattern. Virgil, in the absence of Gordon, would chase up Alan and check to make sure he was okay.

Virgil should be looking after Grandma.

That was what Virgil did.

Instead the man was rebuilding Gordon’s ‘bird and he hadn’t seen him.

Why?

What bee was under his big brother’s bonnet?

So, it was with some surprise that, waking from one of his many impromptu naps, he discovered that particular brother curled up in the chair beside his bed snoring.

It was the snoring that had woken Gordon up.

He stared for a full minute.

Virgil was facing him, his face slack against the back of the chair, eyes steeped in shadow. A snort of interrupted breathing and he frowned, shifting in the far too small chair. He looked so uncomfortable, Gordon had no idea how the man could possibly be asleep.

He reached out to touch his brother, but a hand came from behind him and gently drew his hand back. A stiff turn of his head revealed Scott, an equally deep frown creasing his brow. He mouthed the words ‘leave him’.

Gordon blinked and withdrew his hand. Scott sat back down, looking as tired as Gordon felt.

The aquanaut turned back to his sleeping brother, echoing Scott’s frown. Virgil was dressed in only his grey undershirt, his hair soft and falling into his eyes, but the most defining factor on his health was his paleness. Virgil was an active man and had a tan to prove it, but not so much now.

Whispered. “What’s wrong with him?”

Eyes, darting at his eldest brother, caught the worried shrug.

They couldn’t have been sitting next to Gordon very long, yet Virgil had fallen asleep.

“How are you feeling?” Scott’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Me? I’m fine. What the hell is wrong with him?” A gesture in his sleeping brother’s direction.

Scott’s gaze landed on Virgil and his expression grew sad. “Tired. Hasn’t stopped.”

“Why?”

Another shrug. “Coping mechanism?”

“But...Virgil?”

“Who knows, Gordon. I can’t say any of us are handling this very well.”

A swallow. “I noticed. Sorry.”

Scott’s shoulders slumped as he sighed and rubbed his face with a hand. “Not your fault, Gords.”

Gordon echoed his sigh. “What you going to do? Ban him from his workshop?”

“Thinking about it.” A slight smile. “Maybe lock him up with you.”

A half-hearted glare. “You trying to kill us both?”

The smile became a full-fledged grin. “I thought you said you missed him. That’s why I dragged his dopey ass all the way over here.”

The glare intensified. “Liar. This is big brother fully deployed and you know it.”

Scott’s lips twisted, the grin becoming more of a smirk, eyes dancing. “Call it my prerogative.” His brother stood up, stretching. “I’ll leave the two of you to it.” A nod in Virgil’s direction. “Let him sleep, he needs it. I’ll be back later.” A brush of finger tips across the back of Gordon’s injured hand and his brother strode to the door. A glance at Virgil, a smile at Gordon and he was gone.

Virgil snorted in his sleep again.

Gordon was left to watch the engineer drool on his own sleeve.

-o-o-o-

Waking up was a fifty-fifty situation. Fifty percent of the time it sucked and this rise and shine definitely fell onto that side of the scale.

He was cramped. All of him was cramped. What the hell? A groan and he attempted to unfold his body.

“Oooh, Virg, don’t break yourself.”

Gordon.

What?

He pushed his eyes open and was immediately blinded by sunlight on white walls. Ugh. There was a reason why he had blackout curtains in his room on the Island. A blink and a scrunched-up face and, augh, pain shot up his neck and bounced around his brain. What the hell was he doing sleeping in a chair?

“That’s right. Hold that position.” Something electronic beeped. “Woo, that’s a good one. Definitely saving that for the archives.”

What?

His brain was its usual slow self upon waking. It took several solid attempts to recall where he was and how he had gotten there.

Scott.

His shirt on fire.

Hot chocolate.

His room.

A shower.

Sleep.

Tracy Two.

The hospital.

Gordon asleep.

Waiting.

And now.

The conclusion was obvious. He had fallen asleep, too.

In the chair.

Ow.

“You gonna hold that face much longer, bro? I’m expecting a wind change at any moment.”

“Shut up, Gordon.” Now that came out raspier than an un-greased chainsaw.

“Ho, and hello to you, too, dear brother.”

He forced his eyes open, blinking at the light in the room. Gordon had a grin on his face brighter than the sun. His tablet was also in his hand.

Virgil eyed him. “What are you doing?”

“Enjoying some entertainment. Why?”

“What entertainment?”

“Did you know that that scar between your eyebrows has a following?”

“A what?”

Gordon’s grin was ready to split his face in half. “Oh, you were asleep just long enough for me to set up a social media account for Thunderscar Two the Triumphant. He already has over five thousand followers and has only been live for, oh, fifteen minutes.”

“What?”

Moving hurt like hell and Virgil groaned, but Gordon obliged by turning his tablet around to show a series of photos titled The Many Moods of Thunderscar Two. The photos consisted of various shots of Virgil’s eyebrows. There was even a short video of those eyebrows bouncing up and down...it was the most recent and the number of likes was still going up.

“Ooh, we just hit six thousand. Wow, I never knew you were that popular, Virg.” A laugh. “Hah, Vegetina wants to kiss your scar all better.” Gordon cackled. Maniacally. Like a villain from a B-grade movie.

“Gordon, what the hell?”

“Do that again.”

“What?”

That same electronic beep. “Niiice. They’ll love this one.” Gordon busied himself with his tablet. “Two does Dopey. Sleep is the enemy.” His brother was prodding his tablet. “Posted. Aaaah, they definitely love you, Virg.”

Virgil resisted the urge to rip the tablet from his brother’s hands. Exasperation or anger or not, the playing field was not level. He bit his lip instead. “You are not in a position to escape, Gordon. Are you sure you want to challenge me?”

“Challenge you? I should kick your ass.” And all the humour disappeared.

“What?” He appeared to be saying that a lot.

The tablet was dropped to the bed covers. “What have you been playing at, Virgil? I haven’t seen hide or hair of you since I’ve been here.”

Oh.

“Sorry. Busy.”

“Doesn’t cut it, Virg.” Gordon picked up the tablet again. Another electronic beep and his brother stabbed at the glass. “Scott’s the busiest of us all. Yet he’s been here nearly every day.”

The thought of the flight time his brother must be clocking up hurt somewhere deep in his gut.

“Sorry.”

“Virg, I don’t want you to say you’re sorry. I want to know what is wrong. This isn’t you.” He stabbed at the tablet again. “This, however, is bonafide Thunderscar. Look at that frown.” The tablet came up and yet another photo was gaining likes by the moment. Followers were clocking eight thousand and rising.

He ignored it. Couldn’t really do anything else. “Gordon, I don’t know. I am sorry.” He was still tired. “Just wanted to fix your ‘bird.”

“At the exclusion of everything else?”

Virgil shrugged. He hardly understood it himself. “Just wanted to help you.”

Gordon reached out with his good hand and grabbed at his fingers. Surprised, Virgil let him have them.

“You know you’ve thrown us all for a loop. You’re the steadfast one, Virg. The one everyone else leans on. You disappear and Scott falls on his face...and if you’ve seen his face lately it appears he’s been dragging it around on the ground. Now, John. Do you realise I had to yell at him the other day? That has always been your job, bro, but you haven’t been playing.” A bit lip and Virgil was confronted by a pair of unusually earnest russet brown eyes. “I’m going to be fine, Virg. I’ll be home soon, out of the reach of the local vampires, and I’ll need you to be you. Virgil the Rock, my big bro. Four can wait. I’m not going to need her for a while.”

And there it was, the heart of the matter. Something must have shown on his face, because Gordon yanked him closer to the bed. Virgil didn’t miss the wince that bounced across his brother’s face at the movement. Shit.

“Careful, Gords.” His hand landed on top of his brother’s, sandwiching it between his two.

“There you are.” It was quiet, whispered, and Gordon was still staring up at him. “That’s my big bro. The big softie who will be playing me the piano when I get home whether I like it or not.”

“You like it.” Virgil frowned at him.

Gordon smiled. “Yes, I do.”

-o-o-o-

His brother demanded he stay to keep him company and Virgil found himself holed up with a maniac with a camera and an obsession with his eyebrows. But they talked. Shared. Gordon fell asleep eventually and Virgil was left alone with the tablet, watching the followers count pass the one million mark. Twenty-five photos of his eyebrows, that scar in every single one.

He should be annoyed. He should be yelling. But instead he sat there listening to his brother’s soft breathing and stared at pictures of his own forehead.

Something had lifted.

His heart felt lighter.

He didn’t know what or why, but the how was sleeping beside him wrapped in bandages.

Gordon was a goofball. A loveable goofball. Seeing him hurt...

Virgil closed his eyes.

The door opened quietly and Scott peered into the room.

Placing the tablet on the bedside table, Virgil quietly walked over to his brother, nudging him gently back out and following him through. He closed the door silently behind him.

“Virg? You okay?”

Virgil didn’t answer him, not really sure what to say. Instead he grabbed his brother in a hug and buried his face on his shoulder.

Scott grunted as Virgil hit him with a little more enthusiasm than he had planned, but immediately wrapped his arms around him. “Hey.”

Virgil just held him tighter.

“He’s going to be okay.”

“I know.” Muffled.

“We’re going to be okay.”

“I know.”

Scott apparently ran out of words because for the next minute or so, neither of them said anything. Virgil just clung to his brother.

The foot traffic around them was ignored.

Eventually Virgil pulled away. He found he couldn’t look Scott in the eye. It wasn’t embarrassment, but it was.

“Virg?” Blue eyes seeking. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t know where to put his hands.

Pressure on his shoulder, he looked up and was caught by that blue. “You hungry?”

And suddenly he was. A single nod. “What about Gordon?”

“Grandma and Alan will be here in a moment. Kayo and Penny will be by later. He’ll have company. We can come back later.” The hand on his shoulder slipped around to a one-armed hug. “C’mon, let’s get some nutrition into that stubborn ass of yours before Grandma gets hold of you. One look and you’re locked up with home remedies for a week.”

He couldn’t help, but smile a little, and, with a prod, fell into step with his big brother.

-o-o-o-

“You know, if I had known they would be this popular, I would have started this site years ago. We could be millionaires.”

Virgil didn’t even bother to look up at his little brother. Head first in Four’s thruster assembly, he stuck out a hand. “We’re billionaires, Gords. Hand me that wrench, please.”

“This one?”

“I can’t see what you’re holding up.”

A chunk of metal landed in his hand. It felt about right. Folding his arm proved it to be right. Jamming it around the stubborn bolt, he gave it a shove.

“I know we are, Virg. Can’t really miss it. But this would be for something special.”

“You’re talking about a series of photos of my eyebrows.”

“They are very popular eyebrows. That scar has been nominated for president.”

“Considering most politicians, my scar would probably be just as effective.” An electronic beep. “If you start putting pictures of my butt online, the Gordon Tracy Hall of Embarrassment will go live immediately.”

“Hah, what have you got on me that could possibly outrank anything I have on you.”

Virgil didn’t say a thing. He simply straightened, yanked his phone out of his back pocket, searched a moment and, with a smirk, held it up for Gordon to see.

It was most satisfactory to see his brother’s eyes widen in shock. “You wouldn’t.”

“One picture of my butt and the world discovers this.”

“Okay, okay, I get the message.” An electronic beep. “And Thunderscar is triumphant!”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “All monetary gain goes to charity.”

“Already set up. You are rehabilitating the Supreme Barrier Reef as we speak.”

He stared at his tablet absorbed brother. Perched in his hoverchair, the man was still pale, still wrapped in plaster and bandages. Virgil would have to see him back to his room shortly as his stamina just wasn’t there yet, but he had to admit, to have him home and safe and...here...

“Good to have you here, Gords.”

Gordon looked up at him and grinned. “Great to be here in the presence of Thunderscar the Magnificent.”

Another eyeroll. “I thought he was ‘The Triumphant’.”

“Only when I let him.”

“Oh, really.”

“Yes, really.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re always welcome.”

“Well, hand me that screwdriver so I can finish this off and send her for coating tomorrow.”

Gordon grabbed the tool and handed it to him. “Painting?”

“Yep, which pink would you prefer?”

“Virgil.”

“Yes?”

A pause. “Love you, bro.”

Virgil blinked and turned back to find his brother eyeing him.

A small smile. “Love you, too.” A shrug. “But she’s still gonna be pink.”

The sound of Gordon’s laughter meant more to him than he could express.

-o-o-o-

FIN.


End file.
